Baby, It's Not That Difficult
by twindigo
Summary: Life finally gets to Hanji. Levi is understanding. Angsty angst, stress relief.


For the most part, Levi's days aren't that eventful. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, the overcast sky shines no light into the corporal's office and Levi is bored out of his fucking mind. He's strewn papers and folders over his desk to give an air of work without any actual work taking place, choosing to recline in his chair with his feet propped on a stool under the desk.

He needs a distraction.

Three loud raps at the door wake him from his conscious dreaming, and he grabs a paper from the desk just as the door swings open.

"Corporal!"

Levi doesn't look up from his paper. "Get out, Zoe."

Hanji blows over to his desk, kicking the chair with Levis' feet on out of the way. Levi's balance falters as his feet slam to the floor. Only then does he look up at his squad leader. His glare is cold under his brow.

"I thought I told you to get out. I'm busy."

She bats her hands in the air as if sweeping away his comment. "Yes, yes, listen. It's about Franz."

Levi frowns, tossing the paper onto his desk and searching around the more useless areas of his memory. "That fat little five meter class they roped up last week?"

"Yeah, well guess what! He just threw up in the courtyard!"

The corporal watches Hanji bounce around on the other side of the desk, glowing like an idiot.

"You came in here to tell me about titan puke."

"You betcha! And look at this –" The squad leader fumbles around in her jacket for something, letting out a small a-ha! when she finds it, then presents it to Levi with a flourish. He takes it. He looks at it. Several long moments pass.

"Yeah, okay, I have no idea what this is."

"It's a sample. Of the puke."

An eyebrow rises on the man's face as his gaze flicks between the vial and the red-cheeked woman stepping from foot to foot in front of him.

"It looks like ejaculate."

Hanji snatches the vial back from him with a sniff. "Pretty tame language there, Levi," she quips, earning a bored shrug from the corporal as he reaches for his paper again. "Anyway, sorry you don't find this as exciting as I do, but this is important stuff." She punctuates each word with a jab in the air from the vial. "Very important. Do you know how many experiments we can do on this giant chuckup?"

"Uhh, I don't know, a shit ton?"

"Correct."

Levi tsks and straightens the paper out again, pretending to read. Hanji remains in front of him, her bouncing weakening into awkward shifts. He can hear her breathing through her mouth, unsteady, irregularly. Just as it's beginning to irk Levi, as he's about to snap at her – once again – to leave, her voice cuts through the dead air.

"There were four bodies in there."

Levi's grip tightens on the paper, creasing it. Hanji's words are high and thin. Without looking at her he can see her wringing her hands, pressing down on her knuckles in the same way she is pressing down on her throat – to keep the tremble in. He hates that.

Slowly, Levi leans forward in his chair to smooth the paper out on his desk. "Anyone we know?"

"As of yet unidentified."

"What did you do with them?"

"They were cut out, moved."

Now Levi raises his eyes to her face. She stares back with moist eyes and a ferocity only ever seen when her blade traces the faces of titans. A muscle twitches in her brow, her jaw locked by clenched teeth.

"It's difficult, y'know?" She isn't asking him if he understands.

"Don't say that."

"But it is."

"How?" He struggles to keep his tone lighthearted enough to make it seem like he hasn't heard Hanji's fragility, yet low enough to mimic his usual indifference. He finds there is no inbetween. His voice strains and threatens to break. "How?"

He hates this. He hates that she is here bothering him with this instead of… something, anything else. She'd sought him out for comfort. This isn't her.

"Don't pretend you don't hate this, too."

His face grows hot. "It's our job, Han."

"Yeah, but –"

Levi leaps to his feet and slams one hand on the desk, swinging the other out and pointing in the direction of his office door. "If you'd rather go home and wait for the titans to attack because you gave up and there was no other fucking insane person to name the bastards and cut them assholes in the name of science to replace you, then be my fucking guest, Han."

There's a long pause in which the two of them glare at each other. Then the squad leader is suddenly moving towards him around the desk. Levi's initial panicked thought is that she's going to smack him, and brings his arms up against the heat in her eyes, but, instead of striking his face, her long hands seize it.

"Ha-?"

Levi's body goes rigid. Hanji is shoulders-bent, clutching at Levi's cheek and neck, lips pressed against the underside of his jaw and breathing hotly over his skin. It takes a few seconds for the corporal to react, but he manages to twist his arms up to push back against Hanji's shoulders.  
"What the fuck a-"

She doesn't give him the end of the sentence. She surges forwards again, this time locking her lips down onto Levi's, cupping the back of his head so he'll stay put. He can feel her fingers carding up over the undercut at the nape of his neck to grip in his hair, and he'll be damned if he's going to admit that the slight way she tugs at it sort of feels nice. Really nice.

She's warm, too. Solid. Soft, in other places. Levi is, in theory, no stranger to Hanji's body; late night drunken scrambles, up out of their heads on vine, had more often than not lead to pushed-up shirts and pulled-down trousers, but it can't be said that he remembered too much. He doubts very much that they'd actually gotten round to having sex. Thus, when his hands finally finds Hanji's sides they are cautious; when his lips move back against hers they are uncertain. Levi feels like a kid again, reliving inexperienced fumbles in back alleys.

But when Hanji breathes an open-mouthed sigh, when she pushes her chest against his, when he feels the warmth of her through their shirts…

Damn. He needs this. Enough bullshit. His hands grip her ribs, pushing her back until her ass meets the edge of the desk. Her jacket is pushed roughly from her shoulders and tossed to the floor. He holds her tight, possessive and greedy, his fingers alternating between splaying down her back and gripping and pulling her shirt. Their mouths meet again and again, lips never really leaving. Her tongue is hot and fast like a blade but fuck it's soft. She traces it along his teeth and he catches it, bites it, and she swears.

"Shut up," he murmurs. He lets his lips and tongue trail down her chin and jaw, yanking her head back by her hair to get a better mouthful of her neck. "Are we high or something?"

Hanji leans her head back as far as it will go. "N-No, I just –" Her hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and pushes it up under his arms. Her nails drag down along the hard lines of his stomach, and he convulses appreciatively. "I just really need someone who isn't fucking dead right now, alright?"

It's when he sinks his teeth into her collarbone, when he hears her high whimper, that he begins to realise just how uncomfortably tight his trousers are getting. He lets one of his hands fall down to cup himself through the material, which does nothing but make him throb. Shit, he must be half-hard already. He fumbles frantically with his fly, seeking relief from the pressure, but doesn't take his cock out of his underwear; he rolls his hips forward slightly, enjoying the slightly lessened constriction and the middle seam of his white jeans pushing up against his balls. Giving himself one final squeeze he begins undoing the buttons on Hanji's shirt, feeling her tongue trace the shell of his ear as he works.

Her torso revealed, he buries his face in the soft swell of Hanji's breasts pressed above the cloth bindings, biting and lapping at the supple skin and drinking in her soft curses. He feels something nudge up against his hand and grabs it, not needing to think twice before shoving Hanji's thigh between his legs and his own between hers. Setting Levi with a hot gaze, Hanji slides off the desk, creating a long, slow grind between their bodies that has heat pooling in the pit of Levi's stomach.

"What the fuck are we doing?" he hisses through his teeth as he pivots, thrusting his crotch into the junction of the squad leader's slim hips.

"Shut up and keep moving," is her replying gasp, and Levi takes her words to heart. It doesn't matter that it's Hanji, that it's the middle of the day, that they are sober and really sort of hurting in a lot of human ways. What they both need is a little raw love with no strings, to just fuck against someone with a pulse in a room that smells like dust and bad cologne. The only sounds that fill the room are the scratch of denim on denim, the creaking of the wooden desk and the muffled pants of exertion whispered into damp skin.  
Levi plants one hand on Hanji's hip, the other on her ass, fingers digging into the taut muscle (she's always had a perfect ass, firm with just a little bit of give), and bucks his hips in time to hers. After a minute or so the hands that had been moving on his stomach come to a stop, gripping at his shoulders as Hanji's face grows slack. Quiet pants and moans escape her open mouth and through the haze Levi watches in fascination as her tongue lolls, slick and pink. Fuck, if they ever get to do this again he knows how to put that mouth to good use.

On a particularly good twist of her hips Levi finds himself unable to stifle a groan. Doubling his efforts, he pushes Hanji down onto the desk and fucks hard into her thigh with renewed desire. She writhes underneath him, her hands clutching at his ass and her eyes squeezing shut and her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth. Fuck, that's hot. Hanji doesn't exactly have many curves, built long and rectangular much like Levi himself, but he can't not bite his own lip at the squeeze of her brow, the slight bounce of her bound breasts with each thrust of their hips, the way her back arches and her thighs squeeze and her eyes flutter and oh, fuck that moan, and fuck, fuck, she's coming underneath him, grinding herself down against Levi's hard muscle, chanting his name like a prayer to the Gods, and he's taking everything in you'd better fucking believe he's taking it in.

While she's still moaning Levi drags her down off the desk; she's wiped out, still bucking, legs weak and slouching enough that Levi can bury his face in her neck as he holds her up with one arm wrapped around her torso, the other hand back on her ass and his thighs gripped around one of hers, thrusting madly against the warmth of her body, jeans and underwear tugged down by the friction so the head of his cock almost rubs against the soft skin of Hanji's stomach. It's so fucking amazing and not enough, and it's a good job Levi has always been one for frustration in these situations because it's that simple brush, that tease, that yes yes yes fuck fuck and it has Levi's balls drawing up and a broken croak of a curse sputtering out of his snarling mouth as a shit ton of backup does the same out the end of his cock and onto the valley of muscle on Hanji's stomach. He isn't ashamed to admit that he's using Hanji to milk this for everything it's got, still grinding against her as the rush leaks out of his head and exhaustion takes over.

They both sink to the floor behind Levi's desk, spent and damp, feeling simultaneously more alive and more dead than they had ten minutes before. Levi rests his head on Hanji's shoulder and she pets his sweat-soaked hair. He lets it go for now, mostly because he's very aware of his own cum pooled on her abdomen. She doesn't seem to care, instead humming with her lips nuzzling the crown of Levi's head.

"I think… I'd better go run those experiments."


End file.
